Meeting the Monster
by AymsterSilver
Summary: SUMMARY INSIDE.  When Belle, the daughter of a book keeper, meets the supposed monster of Notre Dame, she sees he's everything but a monster. It's when she meets a certain judge, she starts questioning who the real monster is...   An OC x Frollo fic.
1. Chapter 1: The Phantom of the Bell Tower

**The alternate story of The Hunchback of Notre Dame.**

**Summary: When Belle, the daughter of a book keeper, meets the supposed monster of Notre Dame, she sees he's everything but a monster. The sweet misshapen creature helps her see past his revolting appearance, and shows her that the world is actually a cruel and vile place. It's when she meets a certain judge, she begins to ponder who the real monster is. With his callous and disreputable methods, she is determined to change him, for she thinks every person can be changed. However, she has to test her hypothesis the hard way...**

**Author's Notes: Ok, I believe I have a bit of explaining to do. I can't really call this a crossover, because even though the new character is named Belle, her life isn't anything similar to the Belle from Beauty and the Beast. So I didn't know whether to call this a crossover or not, because I will admit, I modelled the character after Belle. For instance, she vaguely shares the same interests, like books and adventure, but just about any main character in any book has those same interests. She also sort of has the same personality. The reason why I don't classify this as a crossover is because her father is a book keeper, not an inventor, she lives in Paris, not in a small town, and there's no such characters as Gaston, the Beast, Lumiere etc. The other thing is that Beauty and the Beast and The Hunchback of Notre Dame are two totally different time periods, and it makes me OCD to know that the 1700's had randomly clashed with the 1400's. It's just vexing! So Belle is therefore, sort of an OC (other character) living in the 1400s with a totally new backstory. **

**P.S.**

**I want to dedicate this to rotem27691 for making a video on Youtube that inspired me to write this story and I also want to dedicate this to Kurigari91 who was the person who requested rotem27691to make the video in the first place. For anyone who is as in love with Frollo and or Belle as I am, I recommend you go onto_ .com/watch?v=EqdF8Yyswrc _ right now! And if not...well, you shall feel my WRATH!**

**Anyway, Happy Reading!**

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Phantom of the Bell Tower**

_Ding, ding, ding, ding…_

Notre Dame's bells chimed in the distance somewhere through the thick morning fog. It was customary for them to resonate around this time, as it was customary for the book keeper's daughter, Belle, to start heading out delivering books. Belle was a smart girl, and she knew if she used the bells as a cue in the morning, she'd be finished delivering by a reasonable hour, giving her enough time for her own luxury time at the end. She always liked getting things done early. It made her feel like the day hadn't gone by, wasted. However, today was not like any ordinary day. When she had finished getting dressed and trotted down to the main floor, where the book shop was, the usual stack of books needing to be delivered wasn't at the counter. Instead, a note took it's place. She was a little befuddled at this, for it was unordinary for people not to order books, especially around this time of year where scholars were just preparing for a yet another term. She glanced at the note, not with fear, but with morbid curiosity. She wasn't sure whether to pick it up and read it, or just leave it there, for the contents could have been something horrid or something excruciatingly normal. She really wasn't hoping for the first possibility, merely because she knew a cousin of hers was sent off to the war and it would be painful to be informed the sudden demise of her cousin, however, it would have been something vaguely more interesting than what the note actually contained. When Belle picked it up and read it aloud, she noticed it was in her father's handwriting, and it read,

_Dear Belle,_

_There are no books for you to deliver today. Go and do something you want to do. _

_Love, _

_Papa_

"Well, this isn't without due cause, now is it?" Belle huffed. She re-read the note and looked at the words, "…do something _you_ want to do." She knew that if you repeated a word or a phrase a number of times, those words or phrases started sounding like a mix of just consonants and vowels that had no meaning. In other words, one would no longer feel like it was a word belonging to their dictionary. However, Belle didn't need to repeat this phrase a number of times so that it didn't make sense. She already thought it didn't make sense to begin with. Or at least she _felt_ that way, because it was so unconventional, ordering someone to do something they would want to do. And when she _did_ want to do something, it was usually at a time where it was least relevant to do it. Now that she _had_ the time to do whatever she wanted, however, she didn't know _what_ to do with her time.

Belle sighed and looked around the shop. "I suppose I could _read_." She always read, but it was something her outer family members disapproved of sometimes. They thought women should be the bearer of children, should be the cooks of the house and should be the epitomes of housewives for the generations after them to look upon. They weren't amenable to change and they certainly didn't take kindly to women who could gain access to such refined information. Books were also expensive in those days, so for a women to hold an elusive, valuable object other than jewellery was something not often heard. Of course her proverbial little rebellions were frequently spoken of and were sometimes disputed, but that didn't prevent her from continuing her reading sessions. Nonetheless, she thought it unwise to pick up a book and read today, partially because when she did read, it was usually late in the afternoon, when it started to get dark, and when she was finished her day's work. The darker it was, the less people noticed she was reading, though she did admit that it was hard to concentrate on the words after awhile, and that the darkness made her prone to headaches. The other reason was that women who obtained an extensive amount of knowledge, particularly of one subject or the other were often accused of being witches, or having some sort of connection to witch craft. Belle feared people calling her a witch. She wasn't sure whether anyone had started calling her names so fowl, but she wasn't going to take the chances. She would do everything privately now, for her biggest fear was being burned alive at the stake.

"No I suppose, I could just…go for a walk." She said to herself aloud. She looked outside at the fogged up street, and watched the passing silhouettes. She was wondering if it anyone would want to come into the shop, but if someone did, her father's assistant would be coming in a few minutes. Figuring that walking was the best thing she could do, she put on her shoes, found a shawl and wrapped it around her, then left through the front door.

* * *

Quasimodo looked out from the bell tower, hoping to see the many townspeople walking through the streets, but today he could see nothing. It was a bit irritating to see there was a huge grey sheet of evaporated water just lingering over paris, covering all the parts he usually thought most interesting to look at. He supposed he would have to find another means of entertainment. Walking to the table with his figurines, he grabbed a partially carved piece of wood, a small knife and continued to carve.

Laverne hopped over to where he stood. "Hey Quasi," she said, "What's your new project?"

Quasimodo shrugged, and gave a wry smile. "Oh, I don't know. I think I'm running out of people to make. If you look on the table, I've carved the baker, the miller, the baker's daughter, the carpenter, the book keeper, the blacksmith, a couple of soldiers a-

"Arigh, aright, wie ge the poigh" Hugo said, his voice rather muffled. Just a few weeks ago, a mother bird had established her nest in his mouth so it prevented him from talking much. Laverne said it was nicer this way and that they didn't have to hear him gloat much, and after she had said that, Hugo retorted back. Luckily Quasimodo couldn't understand, yet the other two gargoyles could understand him perfectly. They were usually ones who would have to interpret what Hugo said, because Quasimodo couldn't understand a thing.

"Sorry? What was that Hugo?" Quasimodo asked, still carving at his wooden piece, and still unsure of what form it would take.

"Hugo, says, _Alright, alright, we get the point._" Victor translated. Hugo crossed his arms and nodded. He couldn't close his mouth because he apparently didn't want to crush the tiny eggs the mother bird had laid within the nest. This didn't help his mood very much, but he at least seemed satisfied that his gargoyle acquaintances translated his words exactly without tweaking them.

Quasimodo smiled at Hugo and chuckled. "I know, huh? I've pretty much carved all of Paris."

"You've carved the entire world!" Laverne exaggerated, raising her arms over her head, to emphasis the effect. "Isn't it time you've moved onto a different kind of art?"

"Well…I haven't carved _all_ of Paris." Quasimodo sighed. "I'm still missing the mysterious jester-like fellow with the puppets, and…and the archdeacon, and the…" Quasi's voice faded.

"And the what?" Victor asked.

"And the _gypsies_." Quasimodo said in a prudent kind of tone. He looked back and forth, so that he was sure his _master_ didn't walk in on him. "I'm afraid to think what the _master_ might do if I carve one of them."

"Master, shmaster. Who cares what he thinks? It's art! Art is supposed to be about the incomprehensible. The meaning is through the eyes of the beholder. If you carve a gypsy you could just say it's a christian with a really bad sunburn." Laverne suggested.

"But I don't want to upset him!" Quasimodo said, turning his back and walking to the ledge of the roof. He didn't want his friends to think he was cowardly. But it wasn't really an act of bravery to create something the master would go against. It was more an act of disloyalty, or rebellion and Quasimodo would hate to think he upset the master because of a slight impulsiveness. Quasimodo just wanted to forget this conversation and turn the gargoyles to a new topic. It wasn't rare for him and the gargoyles to talk small talk, but when you were up in the bell tower alone, there really wasn't much to talk about, which was why it was hard to focus on a new topic. He scrunched his face up in concentration, and didn't notice that Hugo pulled up beside him, standing on the ledge.

"I hinge igh's tine you seg your priorihiees sraigh"

Quasimodo turned to Victor for help on translating what Hugo said.

"He says, he thinks it's time for you to set your priorities straight." Victor assured him.

Quasimodo turned to Hugo, "What do you mean?"

"Fogh instans, yew dong wealise tha a itagh abelliogh woulc do yew son googh"

"For instance, you don't realize that a little rebellion would do you some good.

An sat caring a yiysy, ight how ze asha zagh oogh gown ugh."

And that carving a gypsy, might show the master that you've grown up."

Hugo held out his hand. "hoe cargh a yiysy."

"So carve a gypsy."

"No! I'm carving something else." Quasimodo snapped. Shielding the carved item with his hands.

Hugo tried grabbing it. "Cargh a yiysy!"

"NO!"

"Cargh a yiysy!"

"NOOOO!" the two of them stubbled against each other's grasps. Hugo tried getting a hold of the carved item, whereas Quasi was trying to protect it. Quasi attempted to take a few steps back, away from the gargoyle, but instead he tripped over himself, forgetting that he still had something in his hands and let go of the carved piece of wood. Unfortunately, the carved piece flung out of his hands and flew over the ledge. Quasimodo tried catching it before it fell, but it was too late. The wooden piece fell down, down, and down into the mists of grey clouds. Quasi and Hugo looked down, baffled at what they had just done.

Quasi growled, and tugged at his hair in frustration. He couldn't help but panic. "Now look what we've done! Arg! The master said specifically that it's not good to give any hints that anybody lives up here. Ahh! And now a carved piece of wood just fell from the sky with no explanation as to how it got there! Someone's going to suspect something! What am I going to do! What am I going to do?"

Laverne hopped over to the ledge to peer down the tower herself. "Hey don't worry Quasi. People won't suspect a thing. They won't suspect anything if you haven't given them anything to suspect about. For instance, they would have to see the thing fall. And it's a foggy morning…How likely is it that someone actually saw the darn thing?"

Laverne's words were quite comforting to Quasi, for she was right, how likely was it that someone out in the square, in the fog, at this time of day saw the thing drop? Of course there was a tiny chance it actually landed right on someone, but the odds were diminutive and it would be the top of misfortune for that to actually happen. Laverne was right…everything was going to be just fine.

* * *

"OWWW! What the heck was that?" A voice crowed in the distance. Belle turned her head to see what all the commotion was about. An old man with a terribly bent back, holding a cane, made small sounds of pain and rubbed his head. A crowd started to form around him and Belle took the opportunity to move closer, but she still kept a small distance from them for she wasn't sure whether things were about to get rowdy. People asked what the old man was fussing about and he merely pointed to the sky saying, "Something dropped on my head from up there! They're trying to kill me you know! Their trying to kill me."

Even though he was pointing directly to the sky, the people seemed to know that it wasn't the sky the object fell from. The Cathedral of Notre Dame towered high over their heads just to the right and it seemed impossible for something other than rain to fall from the sky, so the object had no doubt come from the cathedral. It had got to be from the cathedral…

A shrill shriek was heard, "It was the phantom! The bell ringer!" The woman who screamed pointed up at the bell tower. "He must have dropped it here!"

"It couldn't have been, he only appears when the bells are to be rung!" A man said.

"I heard he's so ugly that if you look into his eyes, you drop dead," another said.

"I heard he was a man murdered in the bell tower."

Belle ignored the comments said about this supposed phantom and looked to the ground where the object that hit the man had fallen. It had fallen in a puddle, and was half covered in mud. When nobody was looking, she picked the piece up, wiped the mud off with her apron and scrutinized it. It was a piece of wood and part of it was carved in the shape of what was, most likely, going to be a human. When she could make out the face of the human carved piece, she couldn't help being awed, for it looked very much like her. She smiled up at the bell tower and thought, "I wonder…could this in fact just be a coincidence?" She wasn't angry that someone would try carving her without her permission. She wasn't afraid, either…She was just curious. And that curiosity lead her up the steps of the Notre Dame Cathedral.

When she went through the main entrance, she spotted the archdeacon and glided over to where he stood. "Umm… excuse me, sir," Belle began to say. The archdeacon turned around to face his addressor.

"Yes, child?"

Belle cleared her throat. "I was wondering…This carved wooden artwork fell from the bell tower and I was hoping to return it to the artist myself. I'd very much like to thank him, if you don't mind…for something…personal. Would you be so gracious to direct me to the stairs?"

The archdeacon merely stood and stared. Belle was beginning to wonder if she had phrased her question in a way that it appeared downright rude. She hoped she didn't come across as domineering. That was the farthest from what she ever wanted to be portrayed as. Then the archdeacon spoke. "Yes, the stairs are that way."

He pointed to spiral stairs to his right and once Belle saw them, she bowed a bow of gratitude, quickly said, "Thank you", then turned to head in that direction. Nevertheless, the archdeacon had laid a hand on her shoulder to prevent her from moving. Belle, confused, turned to face the archdeacon again.

"I said I would direct you to the stairs, yet I didn't say you could ascend them." The archdeacon murmured.

A washed feeling of disappointment spread through Belle, and she felt the archdeacon was being irrational. He probably thought she was up to some kind of mischief, or perhaps he thought she was a thief. She wondered what would permit a person to ascend those steps, and what they'd have to be to earn the privilege, but she wasn't about to waste time trying to gain access to those stairs with _permission_. But perhaps, he was hiding something. Perhaps, there really was a phantom after all.

"If you'd like, you can leave that piece of wood here with me, and I can bring it up there myself."

His suggestion was rather blunt and Belle could see he would not change his mind about letting her up the stairs. Belle shook her head. "No…I suppose I'll find another way of returning it then." These words might have left a bitter taste in the archdeacon's mouth, but it wasn't as if he returned the same sort of bitterness to her. She slowly walked away from the archdeacon, but he kept a keen eye on her. It was as if he suspected her of going against her word. It was quite annoying.

Glancing down the cathedral she noticed that she wasn't the only townsperson there. There were quite a few kneeling on the floor or at the altar, their heads deep in prayer. She hoped that maybe the archdeacon would turn his head towards them, so that she would have the opportunity to dart up the stairs. She was even inclined on creating a diversion herself, but nothing came to mind, or nothing that would respect church rules. Finally, as if her prayers had been answered, someone had clumsily knocked over the set of candles that were lit by the entrance. Of course, in that very instant, the archdeacon turned his head and seemed to entirely forget that Belle was present. He made his way over to help the poor gentleman and to help rearrange candles and Belle took that opportunity to slip past and head for the stairs. When she was sure nobody saw her, she ran up as fast as she could.

It was now very quite. When she reached the top, she got tired from running and placed a hand on the cold stone wall. She needed a minute to catch her breath and it was apparent she had just ascended more than a hundred steps. She was so dizzy from the twist of the staircase, that she didn't notice the arched doorway in front of her until a moment later. Dread was now the feeling that arose in her. "_What if the door is locked_?" She would have climbed all that way for nothing.

When she closed the space between her and the door, she inhaled, a long and deep breath, then she placed her her hand on the door and pushed. To her surprise, the door creaked open. She exhaled and a feeling of satisfaction took over. The room on the other side wasn't at all what she was expecting. She remembered reading about bell towers, but had never once set foot in one. She expected it to be a closed space with single rooms for each individual bell, but this was just one big open room with all the bells hanging high over head. The area must have taken the vast majority of the cathedral's roof. It must have been an entire floor. Belle was amazed to see that the room was bright and vigorous; not dusty, with spiders and crawling creatures. But what surprised her the most was the single table just ahead cluttetered with small figurines similar to the one Belle had in her hand. Belle quickly moved to the table and kneeled to take a closer look, then out of impulse, she said, "Hello? Hello! Is anyone here? Helllloooo!"

Something scurried from behind the bells, where she could not see, and she could instinctually hear the shuffling of feet. Whatever it was, it was hiding from her. "Don't worry," she said, "I'm here to return something you lost. I'm not here to collect taxes." She mused.

"You shouldn't be here. I-I-I'm not supposed to talk to you." The mysterious scurrying person said. He seemed to be afraid of something. It was either he was afraid of her, or afraid of himself. Or it was the combination of both. Whatever it was, Belle couldn't tell but she hoped she wasn't the one scaring him off. At least she knew one thing for sure. The _phantom_ or whatever they called him, was not half as scary as what they said he was.

"Oh…That's to bad. I was hoping to carry on a conversation with you, but may I ask you a question before I go?" Belle asked, turning back to observe the man's table of figurines. "Are you the bell ringer?"

It took awhile for whoever it was to answer, but he then said, "Uhh…Y-y-yes. I am."

Belle smiled to herself. "Well, that's a relief. I was thinking you might be a ghost or a daemon. I must say, you are very talented." She said.

The voice seemed to answer more enthusiastically. "You really think so?"

"Yes. I wake up every morning to the sounds of bells. And when you ring them in the order of a song, it's hard to believe only one man is working the bells…You are quite the musician."

"Yah, well. I'm a little hard of hearing at times because of it." The voice answered in a bashful tone.

Belle didn't know how to respond to something like that. It was unfortunate to hear the bell ringer was losing the key element to his musicality. Therefore Belle found it necessary to change the subject. "These figurines are adorable. Did you make them?"

"Oh yes. Every single one of them."

"I can recognize them…" She pointed at each one individually, "This is the baker. This must be the blacksmith…And oh, wow, this one has an incredible likeness to the carpenter. This one…Why this one is my father! The book keeper. I dare say, you've captured his expression very well. He does tend to squint like that often."

"So _you're_ the book keeper's daughter?"

"Why, yes I am." Belle said. She continued engaging herself in guessing who was who of the figurines. "This one must be the fish seller and this one must be…the barber."

No, it's actually the other way around." The man came out from behind a bell and pulled up beside Belle so that he could point to each figure, he seemed to forget he was hiding from her. "You see, the fish seller always crosses his arms like that, and the barber tends to always drag around those large sacks for no reason." The man looked at her, and she looked at him for the very first time. They both gasped. He gasped because he must have realized he was no longer concealing himself when he was supposed to. She gasped because he really was a fright to look at from up close. The rumours were true. _She_ covered her mouth with her hands and _he_ backed away, tripping over himself and falling to the floor onto his buttocks. He shielded his face with his hands.

A moment of silence occurred, yet non of them stirred. After a short while, the man peeked out from behind his hands and shyly asked, "Aren't you going to run?"

Belle still had her hands covering her mouth, but she then withdrew them, as not to seem rude, exhaled and answered, "Now, why would I do that?"

The man took a really long pause, then brought up the courage to say, "Because of my face."

Belle didn't answer for awhile. Sure, this man looked like a monster, but he certainly didn't act like one. It was hard to say anything at all, especially to someone who seemed like a sweet man. She then decided to be nice. But whether it was the right thing to do to lie, she didn't know. "What face?" She answered.

From what Belle could see of his face, the man looked confused, "You…you mean you are not afraid of my appearance?"

"Not in the slightest." Belle said, "I don't even know why you asked."

"But then what were you afraid of?" The man asked.

"I got startled. I didn't see you pulling up beside me so fast." That was her quickest, most logical explanation. She didn't want to make it seem like she was lying.

The man pulled his hands away from his face and gave a nervous smile. He kept his head slightly bowed so that Belle wouldn't be able to get a clear view.

"So why are you here?"

Belle blanked out for a second. It took her awhile to get used to the complex varieties of the speaker's face. She couldn't help noticing the huge bulge just above his left eye. He must have had troubles seeing through that as well. She then realized he had asked her a question and it took her another half a minute to process it. "Ah! Yes." She shuffled in her pocket and pulled out the wooden piece. "I came to return this." '

The man looked at the item and rubbed his eyes, as if to see if what he were seeing were actually true. "So it fell on _you?"_

_"_Why? Were you _hoping_ for it to fall on someone?"

"No, not in the least!" The man defended, cautiously. "I began carving it and Hu-…And I accidentally dropped it over the ledge. I didn't want anyone to see it, or they'd know I was up here, and my master-..." His tone changed to a very apprehensive one. "…Oh no! My master! That reminds me. I shouldn't be talking to you!" He sealed him mouth shut so that he would not be tempted to speak.

Belle crossed her arms, "That's ridiculous, since when are you not allowed to speak to someone?"

"Since my master arranged it…Whoops." He covered his mouth once again.

"And who is this master of yours?" She was thinking his _master_ was the archdeacon. It would have been a reasonable explanation, considering the fact the archdeacon was trying to hide what it was upstairs.

"Hmmmmmph hmmmm hmmmm hmmm," the man's voice was muffled by his hands.

"Oh, come on," Belle sighed. "Surely you aren't _that_ obedient."

The man looked a little shock stricken by those words. "You'd think that, but it's the least I could do for him! He's been good to me. He's the one who took care of me ever since I was a child. He's the one who dressed me, who fed me, who provided shelter for me…" Again, he seemed to forget he took an oath not to speak aloud.

"So…he's your father?"

"…Well…no…but yes. I suppose you could call him that."

"Then why do you call him master?"

There was a moment of silence. "I don't know…He prefers it that way…Anyway, he was the one to adopt me when my mother abandoned me."

This made Belle feel a little guilty for what she had said. "I'm sorry," she apologized. The archdeacon obviously didn't want to form an attachment with this man. If the young deformed boy started calling him father, he might have actually felt sympathy or guilt for the boy. Giving him a name would have encouraged an attachment as well and that reminded her. "Oh, by the way, I forgot to ask your name," she said, picking herself up from her kneeling position and extending an arm in his direction. "My name's Belle." When the man looked at her hand, his expression gave way to a confused one. She began to understand. "Have you not shaken hands with anyone before?"

The man shook his head. "I've not been outside this bell tower…" When Belle raised an eyebrow, he decided to add, "…ever." And that seemed to enlighten her.

She explained. "When one introduces themselves, they extend arms, and shake the other's hand to show they are not armed…Of course, you should actually wait for someone to introduce you, because otherwise it's rude. And I must warn you, girls aren't really supposed to shake hands, but I like to do it anyway."

The man, now seeming very excited to greet his new companion, extended his arm in the very same way and grasped Belle's hand. "I'm Quasimodo," he said. It must have been a treat for him; to have someone treat him as an equal. To have someone shake his hand. Belle shook their hands up and down so that he would know which way to shake it next time; if there ever was a next time. He chuckled in a very enthusiastic manor, much like a child who had just received a new toy.

"_Quasimodo" _She repeated to herself to sink in the name. "Well, Quasimodo. Why is it that you hide up here all by your lonesome? How about you come with me some time and I can show you around Paris?"

Quasimodo backed away, frightened of what she said. "Oh no. I couldn't possibly do that! The master wouldn't allow it."

Belle knew he would say something along those lines, but she wasn't expecting the fear in his eyes. She moved to where Quasi stood, put a hand under his chin and raised his head so that he'd face her. She looked into his sad eyes and asked in her most sincere tone, "What is it that the master tells you?"

Quasi looked away and held his hands over his face once again. "He…he tells me I'm ugly…and that the world is cruel to those who are …misshapen. He says I'm safe here and that no one will hurt me up here. He says I can't help it that I'm deformed and that it was unfortunate the devil chose me."

As vile and sinister as he sounded, whoever the master was, he was unfortunately right about the world being a cruel place. Belle had heard many stories concerning mutated children, children sick in the brain, or just extremely slow learners. It was hard to find stories about them because most of their parents kept them locked away in closets, where nobody would ever hear of them. It was supposedly so that the families could keep their good name, but it never ended fairly for their deformed or mentally challenged children. Death might have been a better alternative. The children that were like that, found in public, were often the children being bullied, tortured, used as some dishonourable source of entertainment, or killed. People _were _cruel and Quasi's master was completely right.

But keeping Quasi here didn't make the master, necessarily, a good person. Yes, he provided Quasimodo with a nice shelter, food, clothes and enough sunlight to keep him in a good and healthy state, but he didn't have to demote Quasimodo right to his face. Calling him _ugly_ was probably the last thing the poor man wanted to hear. Belle didn't agree with this so called _master _and she would most likely never_. _And she particularly didn't agree with hismethods_. _She wanted to comfort this Quasimodo and tell him that everything would change one day and that he would be able to roam the streets freely with nobody treating him poorly.

She put a hand on his shoulder. "Just because something looks a little banged up, doesn't mean it's entire life should be thrown away… One day, you are going to go out of this tower and see what it's like on the other side. And who knows? Maybe you'll change your mind about going there. But maybe, you'll see something extraordinary happen, and that will change everything you ever known, and everything others knew as well."

Quasi looked up at her and smiled a wry yet sweet smile. "I shouldn't say this…but I hope you're right."

She looked at the wooden piece in her hand and placed it in Quasi's. "I believe you weren't finished this. My nose isn't quite that straight, you'll see it points a bit upwards." With that she headed for the exit, but before she pulled the the door open, she turned to face Quasimodo. "Oh, um, and Quasi?" Quasimodo looked up at Belle like a dog being left by it's owner. "Would you like for me to visit again?"

It was apparent that Quasimodo didn't know how to answer this, for he brushed back his hair and twiddled his thumbs. "Oh, uh…Yes," he finally managed to say. "I would like that very much."

Belle pulled the door open, and nodded, smiling to her new friend. "Tomorrow then. I'll be sure to visit tomorrow." With that last note, she closed the door and Quasimodo was left alone in silence.

The word "silence" didn't seem like a real concept, until now…

* * *

**Authors notes: Yay! Are you excited for the next chapter? That's when Frollo comes in! Oooo scary! I'll tell you...He's a real _bitch_ in the next chapter. But, before I post the next chapter, I'd like to hear some feed back. It's to assure me that people are actually reading this. Because I don't like posting for nothing :). Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2: Not Just a Judge

**Author's Notes: Ok. I saw your reviews and I was thinking, "COOL! :D These people are AWESOME! I really hope I can make it up to them by posting the second chapter soon!" So here it is! Yay! And we all get to see why Frollo is a _BITCH_! However, I hope there aren't any grammatical errors or awkward sentences. I was in a rush to get this done because my school work and work outside of school is starting to accumulate like the mail in "Going Postal" if you've ever read that book. Anyhow, if you come across a grammatical error, just pretend to take a stapler and pretend to staple it on my face, so that I will walk around with SHAME. SHAME! **

**Anyway, enough of my blabbering! (Just skip this sentence if you would.)**

**Happy Reading! :D**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Not Just a Judge**

"And there you have it!…A stain glass mobile!" Belle said, standing on Quasimodo's table of figurines and hanging the shimmering glass pieces high overhead so that it would perk up the room. Quasimodo stood below, on the floor, mesmerized by the glittering pieces. When she had finished securing the mobile tightly, she stroke a dramatic, victorious pose and Quasimodo clapped respectively for her, in an amused, yet very politely manner. It had been her fourth visit since their first encounter and each time Belle visited, she would make promises to introduce something new to Quasi.

The first day it had been a deck of cards with four suits. It had become a bit of an obsession of her uncle's, card playing, considering how newly established cards had been within the last century, though, unfortunately his obsession had turned to a morbid one. He ended up declining in his financial success and he gambolled away the vast majority of his earnings. Her father, therefore, found it necessary to take away anything that would tempt his brother into the deviant art of gambolling. So the deck of cards she had given Quasimodo for a gift had once belonged to her uncle, however she didn't find cards necessarily evil. In spite of the many dealings and bets one could make with cards, cards were generally a good source of entertainment, and one had the advantage of even playing with the deck alone, for their were many games designed for solitary leisure . She thought it perfect for Quasimodo, bearing in mind that most of Quasi's time had been will be spent alone. Quasi, having not shown the slightest reluctance on receiving the gift, accepted it and was eager to start playing at once. When she taught him a few games, it surprised her to see that Quasimodo was capable of strategizing and that he followed the rules better than she could. "_His master must have taught him a few valuable lessons…" _she thought to herself, after Quasimodo had a winning streak of five games.

The second day, Quasimodo showed a few of his valued possessions and among them were little bits of broken stained glass. He explained to Belle that while preventing a robbery several years ago, the robbers took the opportunity to throw a few stones through the stain glass windows. Unfortunately, Quasi's attempts at stopping the robbery ended up costing the cathedral more for repairs, but he was at least proud of himself for stopping a crime in the act. What pleased him the most, he said, was that this act didn't go unnoticed and that people were trying to thank the mysterious hero for saving their cathedral, by placing gifts for him close to the altar.

"I received a lot of baked goods that week." Quasimodo said smacking his lips and staring dreamily off into space.

"But why did you keep the shards of glass?" Belle asked, observing the small glimmering pieces by holding them up to light.

"I don't know…" Quasimodo replied, "I guess it was to remind me of that small little feeling of glory I once had. However, the pieces are not very useful…and my master even once told me to dispose of them, once. He said it's not wise to keep things with little use. Only keep things with optimal performance…"

"Then, I suppose we should _make_ a use for them." Belle said, pulling out a bundle of string from her pocket. She had the idea that they could hang the pieces up as a sort of mobile to glitter up the room and Quasimodo thought it was a remarkable idea. Of course, they ended up spending all of the second day cutting themselves with sharp pieces of glass and cutting the circulation of their fingers by tying string, but what was most important was that it was fun, and the two rather enjoyed themselves. During their little craft sessions, they avidly spoke of many things, including the cathedral, festivals, activities, gargoyles and anything that would randomly come to mind however Belle took care not to mention the subject of Quasi's master, for she figured it was a delicate subject for Quasimomdo. Every time he mentioned his master, his beaming expression would turn into a gloomy one, and Belle had the feeling that it wasn't the weather contributing to these sudden mood changes.

_"Insufferable man." _Belle thought to herself, _"To think the archdeacon is causing all this strife for poor Quasimodo. He's really good at concealing it…however." _

Today when she went into the cathedral, she almost got caught by the archdeacon. She walked in wearing her shawl over her head, and she could swear she saw the archdeacon squint in her direction, but luckily, someone went to him to ask if they could make confession, distracting him, and allowing Belle to slip past unnoticed. Belle was relieved that he didn't catch her, and she would have felt bad if she got caught because Quasimodo would have heard no explanation as to why she didn't show up. He might have gotten the wrong idea that she didn't want to see him anymore and that was something she would never want to happen. But now was not the time to think of such negative things.

"So now if your feeling down and out, you can just look at your surroundings and hopefully this will raise your spirits." Belle said after she had finished the last couple of touches of the stain glass mobile. Quasimodo helped Belle off the table. The two of them stared in fascination at their creation hanging from a wooden beam, high above their heads. They both sighed, but from the corner of Belle's eye, she could see that Quasimodo's expression changed.

"Oh!" He said rather quickly, "I forgot!" He rummaged through his pockets and finally found what he was looking for, yet whatever it was, he didn't pull it out yet. "I have a surprise for you."

Belle turned to fully face him and crossed her arms. She felt bad about him doing stuff for her. "I told you you didn't have to repay me in any way." She said.

"Oh, but I wanted to!" Quasi said, under excited breath. "Besides, it's the least I could do…for a friend" He chuckled, then repressed it as fast as he could. She supposed he didn't want to sound goofy, especially with her around. "Now…hold out your hands…and…uh, close your eyes." Belle didn't do anything at first. She just raised an eyebrow and gave Quasimodo a suspicious expression. Then he raised his index finger, cowered a little, and added, "…please?"

Belle couldn't refuse him when he acted so helpless. It was another strategic method he adapted. He probably knew that pouting was almost impossible to refuse and that he could get what he wanted the majority of the time if he used it. She generally hated it when men thought they could get anything that way, but just not to upset Quasi, Belle sighed, uncrossed her arms, closed her eyes, then held out her hands. Knowing Quasi's sort, he was most likely going to wave his hand in front of her eyes to check if she was peeking and sure enough, Belle felt the small gust of breeze on her face. She scrunched her eyes tightly to emphasize her subservience. He obviously thought it was safe now to give Belle's surprise because Belle felt him place the object slowly in her hands. She grasped it, and felt the smooth, hard, wooden texture against her fingers. After, opening her eyes, she glanced down at what was in her hands and saw that it was the wooden figure Quasi had started the day they met, only this time it was finished and painted. She smiled at Quasimodo.

"I worked on it after you left…" He explained.

Belle observed it. "You got my nose right!" She laughed.

Quasi nodded and smiled back, "Yes. I left that till last. I felt like I needed to look at you one last time to know exactly how it tilted."

"Oh, Quasi," She bent slightly down to give Quasi a hug. At first he wasn't sure what to do, but then he returned the hug in a most ardent fashion. He even rubbed his head against her shoulder. Belle wondered if he had ever given a hug before but whether he did or didn't she thought that he was cute for returning it so childishly. "I'll never know what I'll do withou-

_"Quasimodo, you'll have to forgive me for arriving late, but urgent business called and I-_

The voice had come from a very formidable, wealthy-looking man who had just walked into the door holding a basket but whatever he was going to say next, Belle and Quasi never found out, for he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of the two hugging. He also seemed to forget he was holding the basket, for it fell from his hands, and the contents, which were apparently grapes and a bottle of wine, had rolled to the floor.

Apparently Quasimodo was _also_ shocked to see this man walk into the room, for he quickly broke his grasp on Belle and began twiddling his thumbs. Belle stood there awkwardly, gaping back and forth at Quasimodo and this strange intruder. She was unable to perceive what just happened. Who ever this man was, half of his expression seemed to be of bewilderment, the other half seemed to be loathing scrutinization.

"Oh…uh, hello." Belle said, trying to give an angelic smile to the stranger. Her attempt failed miserably and she could swear she heard her voice raise a pitch but in her eyes it wasn't a bad idea to lighten the situation.

The man cleared his throat and composed himself. "Well…It is all rather nice walking in on such jovial circumstances…" he said in an excruciatingly sarcastic manner.

Quasi nodded not really getting the irony, "Yes…Mas-

"…But to display affections so wantonly? And I will be frank, Quasimodo, the bell tower is not as sequestered as you think." Every word the stranger said pierced Belle with a feeling of embarrassment, even though she had done nothing wrong.

This man, so elegant and so dignified, had just walked in on two people hugging each other. Belle wasn't sure whether the edginess of the situation had come from the fact that hugging or kissing in public was considered uncivil and hinted at sexual behaviours, or whether the edginess was due to the fact that her ranking, compared to this man standing before them, was no doubt considerably lower and far less significant. Whatever it was, she didn't want this man to get the wrong idea.

"Please sir, it's not what it looks like."

"Master…" Quasi squeaked, he obviously wanted to change the subject, "I-I-I wasn't expecting you to come today."

_"Master?"_ Belle repeated in her head. _"So his master isn't the archdeacon?" _

"Quasi," The man said in a rather reassuring tone, "Do you really think that I would skip having breakfast with you?"

Quasi looked shamefully at the floor and muttered very quietly, "It's just you didn't come by yesterday…"

"What was that, boy?" The man hissed, suspiciously.

"Nothing…Nothing." Quasi rather rapidly. Quasimodo tried recovering the conversation by looking down at the mess from the basket and saying, "Here, l-l-let me clean that up for you."

"Yes…do." The man snarled.

Belle tried to stop Quasi, "No, allow m- " but he moved to quickly for her and when he went to the master's side he bent down to pick up the grapes from off the floor. She wanted to be the one cleaning because it was awkward for her to just stand there, not being able to introduce herself.

The man, dressed in wealthy attire had moved his robes away disgustedly, but gracefully so that Quasimodo could clean without anything in his way. When Quasi was cleaning, the man glanced at Belle then decided to clear his throat once again to get Quasi's attention. Gesturing to Belle he said, "I would suppose, an introduction is called for…_Quasimodo." _He emphasizedQuasimodo's name as if to tell Quasi he was being rude for not introducing his acquaintance in the first place.

"Oh." Quasi said, unsure of what do with himself. Should he finish cleaning the mess first? Or first introduce them to each other? He must have chosen the second option for he got up abruptly, brushed himself off and gestured towards Belle. He most likely remembered the lesson Belle had given him on how people greet each other for he politely cleared his throat, straightened up as best as he could, and spoke. "Sorry. Master? This… is… Belle. Belle's from the northern part of town. Her father's a book keeper."

"Ah…A book keeper. One of the fortunate ones I presume." The man smiled condescendingly towards her. "Tell me girl, did your father bestow much time on teaching you to read and write?"

Belle didn't want to appear rude by not answering his somewhat egotistical comment, so she quickly responded, "Oh, yes. I've become quite fond them. I particularly enjoy reading."

"A proclivity then?"

Belle wasn't sure she should have said anything at all. He might of been one of the ones who resented the working class knowing how to read. "Yes…I suppose, it has become almost habitual."

Quasimodo coughed to make his presence known. He hadn't finished his mutual introduction and he must have felt awkward standing between their conversation. "Belle," he began, turning to face her and gesturing towards his master, "This is my master, the minister of justice, Judge …Claude… Frollo."

She wasn't sure whether it was her imagination or her lack of sleep, but somehow, after those short few words, the man seemed a whole lot more menacing. She could even see a small glint in his eye that gave him a sort of sinister quality; like, he knew something that she didn't and he would use it to torment her. But the worst thing of all was how he smiled to himself and looked down upon her. He definitely knew he could ruin her life with a single hand gesture. He was the minister of justice after all, and he had the power to control, manipulate, and steer the minds of each and every uniformed soldier out there in Paris. People got restless around those armour uniforms, so hanging around the man in charge of it all was probably way worse. Belle had to admit, "Judge Claude Frollo" was not a name that could be easily forgotten. She had heard it many times before in stories concerning mass murderers, witch trials, and whatever else seemed criminal related, however, the most recent stories had been about gypsies. Some people thought him accomplished, and almost famous, but the majority thought otherwise. He was infamous. Notorious for his hatred of the gypsies.

He held out his hand full of rings and smirked, making his cheekbones more pronounced. Belle supposed she should bend down, clench it and kiss the signet ring on his fourth finger. It was to show respect and submission to the upper class, but she didn't know whether she had any for this man, especially if the stories she heard were true. Particularly, the ones concerning his riddance of the gypsies. Forcing herself entirely to take his hand in her own, she bent down and kissed the ring. It seemed to give him an odd sort of pleasure as if he was basking in his own dominace.

"You neglect to suppress your inner feelings," he added, looking somewhat amused. "I presume that means you've already heard of me."

Belle would have looked taken aback if she hadn't quickly restrained herself. Had she really made herself that obvious? Did she make a disgusted face while kissing his ring? Or was it that she looked like she was trying so hard not to show any signs of disrespect?

"Not _just_ heard of you…" Belle answered. She wasn't sure how he would take that comment. There were several different ways of interpreting it but Frollo seemed to interpret it the negative way.

Quasi stepped in. "Um…Belle has been so kind to visit me each day. We tried decorating the bell tower this morning so that it would look nicer."

"So I see," Frollo said, not bothering to look at his surroundings. He kept his sour expression on Belle.

"She taught me a few card games."

"Not surprising…" He said crossing his arms.

"And helped me practice writing."

"Adequate, I suppose."

"She also, read a few stories to me."

"How practical." He said sarcastically. Belle didn't know whether he was aware of being rude, or whether it was just a part of his nature. It didn't matter because he could get away with it either way. The dominant class usually had the power to get away with being rude to others. He faced Belle. "It's obviously, not your first visit."

There had been a moment of silence. Belle never really thought of this, but it had just occurred to her that Quasi's master may not have been obliged for Quasi to meet with the outer world, even with the conditions of being inside the bell tower. Quasi must have never told Frollo that she had been there. She was almost angry at Quasi for not warning her.

"Here." Quasi said, trying to sound cheerful, "The wine bottle that dropped is still in tact. Why don't we poor a couple of drinks and tell our stories over a few cups of wine?"

Quasi went over to his shelves to retrieve a few cups and started moving figurines off the table so that he could set the table, but Frollo didn't move. "Actually, Quasi, don't trouble yourself…" He turned to face Belle, "Young lady, may I have a word with you?" When Belle didn't budge, he added in a cold, yet, snake-like manner, "_In private?_"

Belle and Quasi exchanged small glances, then Belle nodded to Frollo. She didn't know what he wanted, but somehow she knew she was about to be confronted. As she followed him through the entrance door she looked back at Quasi. He had a worried expression on and he clenched the cup in his hands tightly. Frollo turned, looked at Quasi as well, then slowly closed the door behind him. The two of them were alone.

He turned to face Belle and put his fingers together. "Tell me…" He began rather subtlety. "Do you lack empathy?" Belle didn't understand. He continued, "Let me re-phrase…Do you live off the servitude of others?"

Belle was confused, "Does this have a purpose?"

Frollo gave an annoyed laugh. "Come now, do you really expect me to believe that a pretty young actress such as yourself wants the companionship of a creature like Quasimodo?"

"Your use of words are harsh…And I'm not an actress." Belle growled.

Frollo rubbed his temple and sighed. "Eh…I see we are going to get nowhere with this." This time he took an assertive step towards Belle, "Let us begin anew." He was looking angry. "You came here with no moral intentions, came here spontaneously, and yet when you saw the monster, you didn't run… Now, any other human being would have scampered off in fear, but you didn't. You saw something you wanted and you aspired to have it. Now, what that _something _is, I'm inclined to find out. You certainly don't have an inclination toward Quasi, so what-is-it?" He annunciated those last words to such an extent that spit flew out of his mouth.

"I saw…destitution." Belle retorted.

Frollo rolled eyes, "Please, spare me those trivial faleshoods."

Belle decided it was time to defend herself. "He was lonely, scared, hardly educated…I even thought, at first, that he was living in poverty because he lived in a tower…but what I _wanted_ was to help this poor man."

"_You _wanted to help him? When you saw that he was wearing clothes fit for a misshapen shape like him? Not to many tailors go out of their way to clothe helpless, poor, deviants, so surely you drew the conclusion that someone wealthy was providing for him."

"Actually, I thought the _archdeacon_ was providing for him."

Frollo sucked in his cheeks a little and raised his head at the sound of the archdeacon's name. The two must have had a bad history because otherwise his expression wouldn't have been of disdain. Frollo shook his head, "You're trying to swivel your way around the truth. No, I can guess what it is. For instance, we can always look at the presumption that you knew that bell ringer had a connection to the minister of justice, and because of your poor living conditions, you decided to seek the truth yourself. You come here, see the bell ringer hidden away by me, wonder _why_ I keep him locked away and then decide that you can blackmail me by exposing Quasimodo to the public. But first, you want to know _why_ exposing Quasimodo to the public is crucial to me. You want to know whether it would ruin my reputation, destroy my career, dislodge all my possessions. Well, if your intentions are something of that sort, you'd be disappointed to know that the only reason why I harbor Quasimodo is to keep _him_ away from the malevolent clutches of the world. You see, exposing him would have very little effect on me."

"The world is changing however, and people may be more acceptant of those like Quasimodo."

Frollo found her comment incredulous. "The world is not changing in those aspects and it will never change. People will always look down on the malformed with disgust and it will be the same, generation after generation. One small glance at Quasimodo, for instance, could still lead to the abyss of chaos."

Belle shook her head. "You're wrong. Quasimodo will be accepted into society…and whether people look upon him with disdain, people like me will be there to aid him. "

Again, Frollo smiled sinisterly. "Your a talented actress…Your strong feelings for Quasi could almost be deceiving." Belle wasn't sure whether Frollo was saying this just to make her angry, or whether he was saying it because he truly believed it. Knowing that Frollo was highly educated, she decided it was most likely the first option. "Tell me, do you receive a franc for every performance? Or is it your body accruing your annual income?"

Belle looked irritatedly away. He had no doubt insulted her. This man was stubborn, and rude and she knew by the sight of him that he was the opinionated type. That meant he was not obligated to lose an argument. She spoke, refusing to look him in the eyes. "You amuse yourself in pitiful ways."

"I'm a public official. We're entitled to."

Belle's anger could not be restrained. She looked him in the eyes, "You know why I think you lock him up in a tower?" Frollo raised an eyebrow. Belle crossed her arms and decided she would continue with a slight mocking edge. "_We can always look at the presumption_," she continued, quoting his words, "that _you_ are jealous. You can't stand it to see people less fortunate then you happy because no matter how many possessions you gain or how successful you become, not one happy thought enteres your mind. You are probably depressed like all human beings, but unlike _other_ human beings, you decide, rather than trying to make _yourself_ happy, you make other people _less_ happy."

Frollo didn't say anything at first and it just occurred to Belle that she had showed every inch of disrespect. What was worse that it was the minister of justice. Belle gasped, covered her mouth with one hand and backed away. Frollo saw her fear and took the opportunity to use it against her. "All right." He said in a low hostile whipser. "Let this be a warning to you." He closed the space between him and her and then towered over her so that she would feel threatened. "If you come back here again…my men will arrest you. And when you are taken into custody, they'll be sure to introduce you to a few innovative tools, that may make you change your opinions quite effortlessly." Belle gazed up at him fearfully. Her heart was pounding. "Now, if your smart," He hissed through his teeth, "I would suggest you leave."

Belle looked at him and then at the door, where Quasimodo, on the other side, stood, alone. He was probably wondering what was going on. Belle on the other hand was unable to think properly. She must have been lucky, because Frollo was giving her a chance to walk out of the cathedral a free woman, but on the down side, she would never get to see Quasimodo again. Quasi would have to suffer because of her, and she wouldn't be there to assure him things were going to be alright. She hated that, when someone suffers due to another's actions. Knowing, things were hopeless, she gave Frollo one last look of contempt and began walking down the stairs. She refused to look back, knowing that Frollo was watching her. So many emotions took over, but the one she felt the most was guilt…She felt all too guilty for what she had done, and as she walked down the stairs, it didn't help to feel _his_ proud gaze upon her back.

She would leave, having said nothing to Quasimodo and the poor man would wonder why she left…

* * *

In that while of standing in the bell tower alone, Quasi couldn't help wonder if ten or twenty minutes had gone by. For some reason, the gargoyles didn't awaken, and he thought this strange because it was in their usual habit to awaken when nobody else was around. He supposed that they were too tired or he supposed they didn't want to take the risk of being seen with two visitors up in the tower. Whatever it was, it annoyed him, because he was hoping there would be something to distract him from listening at the door.

He wasn't sure whether the wind was playing tricks on him or whether what his ears were hearing was true, but he could have sworn he heard the Belle and Frollo arguing. Again, it could have just the angry humming sound coming from the wind blowing against the bells, but Quasimodo didn't abandon the thought entirely. His master resented the idea of Quasimodo meeting with other people, so naturally Frollo would be angry, but Quasimodo hoped that this one instant would change the master's opinion. "_Perhaps, the master will see how nice she is and he would make an exception for her." _He thought.

It was an unlikely event, but Quasimodo wanted to hope for the best. Suddenly the door opened.

Quasimodo was expecting to see both Belle and his master walk through the door, but only Judge Claude Frollo came through. Quasi watched as Frollo shut the door quietly behind him and his cheery expression of hope faded to a sad one. "Master…is everything alright?…I-I-I thought I heard arguing." Frollo walked over to where Quasi stood yet didn't answer. "Where's Belle? Is she alright?"

"She's gone." Frollo answered, in a low remorseful-like tone.

Quasi gasped, "Gone? D-D-did something happen?"

Frollo led Quasi to the stool at the table, and beckoned him to sit down. When he was seated, Frollo put a hand on Quasi's shoulder and sighed. "Quasimodo. Hopefully now you will understand why the world is a cruel place."

"Why are you saying this master? Is this why Belle left? Is she coming back?"

"No Quasimodo…She's not coming back…She's _never_ coming back."

Quasimodo looked up at his master with teary eyes. "What?" He whispered. He could not believe what he was hearing.

"I spoke to her…" Frollo explained, "and she deceived you."

Quasi couldn't look at his master anymore. It was too hard to bear. He felt Frollo stroke his hair to comfort him, but instead it gave him shivers down his spine. "I don't understand," Quasi said.

"She was not who she said she was. Her sweet and warmhearted compassion was nothing more than a mere act. She's a harlot, Quasimodo. A ruthless daemon with no heart."

"But-

"She used you because she thought you were getting a great fortune from me and she would have vilely slept with you for money but when I told her you had nothing, she walked out, refusing to come here again."

Quasimodo's eyes finally swelled up with tears, and he covered his face with his hands. "I thought she was nice…"

"My dear Quasimodo," Frollo said in a deceiving caring tone. "Don't let this dishearten you. Rather, let it be a lesson to you, that the world is repugnant on the other side of the cathedral."

Quasimodo sniffed, and bowed his head even further, "You are good to me, master."

"Yes." Frollo agreed. "I try…" He put his hand under Quasimodo's chin to raise his head in order to face him. "Promise me, Quasimodo, never to go looking for the girl."

Quasimodo answered in cold words. "Master…Why would I want to look for someone who betrayed me?" He bowed his head again, after Frollo withdrew his grip.

Frollo seemed very pleased by this. It took him a short while to answer. "Good lad." He said.

He patted Quasimodo one last time then walked towards the door. Quasimodo didn't see the satisfied, wicked smile spreading across his master's face...

* * *

**Author's Notes: I told you Frollo would be a bitch (technically I should find another word to suit his male sex, however I find that word suits him perfectly). On a good note, that doesn't stop my morbid fascination of him. Anyhow, thanks for the feedback last chapter. It really encouraged me. Let me know if this is worth continuing because I will post the next chapter depending on the type of feedback I get. Also, try to ignore any grammatical issues or awkward sentences :P. I tried getting this done as fast as I could and my school work is really starting to press on me. **

**Chapter 3 preview: If you want a preview, I can tell you in five words. "Belle-does-something-she-shouldn't." *Whistles* and looks around. "I did not just tell you that."**


End file.
